


You Smiled

by taggiecb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - War, Canada, Escape, French Louis, Happy Ending, Historical, Implied Sexual Content, Liam appears to be on the bad side, M/M, Pining, Prison, Prison Guard Harry, Prisoner Louis, Prisoner of War, Soldier Harry, Strangers to Lovers, but he just takes his job seriously, french liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb
Summary: Just then, the man looks up, and catches Harry's eye. Harry freezes, feeling as though he's the one trapped. The man doesn't smile, just watches Harry watch him, until finally he lifts his eyebrows in question, and Harry somehow manages to release himself from the spell that he feels he's under.--It's 1758 and on the eve of a battle with the French, Captain Harry Styles of the British army has just begun his appointment as a prison warden in Louisbourgh, Nova Scotia. Harry prepares himself and his guards for their prisoners of war, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the most beautiful man he has ever seen- who is now his prisoner.





	You Smiled

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank the lovely Emmu for the artwork that inspired this story. I never thought that I would write a story like this, and have probably said that I wouldn't more than once. But here we are haha. You're so lovely and talented and thank you again.
> 
> Thank you Anitra for holding my hand through this, and all of my fics, and life in general. You are the actual best. 
> 
> As much as I hate to admit it to the world, the title of this fic is inspired by an 18th century poem entitled You Smiled by Walter Savage Landor
> 
> You Smiled, you spoke and I believed,  
> By every word and smile - deceived
> 
> Another man would hope no more;  
> Nor hope I - what I hoped before.
> 
> But let not this last wish be vain;  
> Deceive, deceive me once again!

 

Harry walks slowly through the freshly built halls of the new prison. His new prison. The idea sends a shiver through his back. It’s a lot of responsibility that he isn’t so sure he’s prepared for. But at the same time, he knows that he has earned it. He has spent five years working his way up through the ranks, and is now widely known through the colonies as one of the youngest captains in the British army. The reasons that he made it that far is something that he prefers to not think about.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155129156@N06/37848010392/in/dateposted-public/)

This though, this is a promotion that he can sink his teeth into. Harry is going to be in charge of the prisoners of war that will inevitably be filtering into him now that the British forces have left Halifax and have begun their journey to Louisburgh. Harry doesn’t realise if de Drucour realises yet just how outnumbered he is, but he is most definitely confident in a British victory. He can’t say that he isn’t sad to be on the back lines of battle this time around. He wouldn’t trade his small office with the goose feather mattress near his large hearth for any battle in the west.

He makes his way to the door of said office, and pauses for just a moment. The weight of his responsibility feels heavy on his shoulders, but at the same time freeing...lonely. He touches the cool metal of the handle, and pushes the door easily inward. He knows that he should be startled when he sees a man sitting in the chair behind the desk, his chair, but he isn’t. He just sighs fondly, and closes the door behind him.

“Niall, what are you doing here?” He asks, perching in the smaller, less comfortable wooden chair across from his unlikely friend. Niall, an Irish merchant that he had met only a very few years previously should be on the other end of the fighting line as Harry, with the Irish and the french being in allegiance when claiming this land for their own. But Niall is a notorious pacifist, and where most would not get away with such snubs to patriotism, Niall always seems to slide through. Proof being him sitting in the office of a prison that he could otherwise be on the other side of.

“I just wanted to see your new place. Make sure you were keeping out of trouble.” Niall smirks, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Wondering if you had eaten yet.” Just as Niall says this, Harry’s stomach rumbles audibly.

“I have not, as it turns out. Any suggestions? I am new to this part of town.” Harry replies, already standing. He is so jittery that he can’t seem to still his legs.

“As am I. But I have met a few people. I think I can get us to where we need to be.” This doesn’t surprise Harry in the least. Niall can’t go anywhere without befriending half of the local population. He lets Niall take the lead, and leaves the new place to his guards’ trusted hands. He thinks that maybe this could be a good sign of things to come.

 

Harry was of course right. Niall had taken him to a small pub where everyone loved him immensely. Unfortunately this also means that his lunch lasted far longer than he had hoped, and it’s nearing dark on this early autumn evening before he gets back to his task. His guards of course say nothing to his tardiness, but he tips an apologetic look to them nonetheless.

“Anything to report lads?” He asks casually, readying himself to put his feet up, maybe even close his eyes for a few minutes.

“New prisoners Captain.” One of the older boys bark out dutifully. It takes Harry back, the deep rumble of the voice coming from someone looking so wet behind the ears, and the fact that there are already prisoners in his building.

“Prisoners? The battle isn’t even due to begin for a few more days. A week if the weather doesn’t cooperate.” He says as he looks at the darkening clouds in the sky. Five years on this new soil, and the weather still baffles him. So unpredictable from one day to the next. Sometimes one moment to the next.

“A small band of vagrants it looks like sir.” Another boy speaks, a little more timid than the previous. “Caught trespassing. When it was discovered that they were french it was only fitting that they were brought here.”

Harry rubs his chin. He wasn’t prepared to deal with civilian troubles. He’s an army officer. He is here for the battle, and to do his part. Trespassers, and on the first day no less. This is a surprise. Harry doesn’t deal well with consternation. But he sure as hell isn’t going to show these young kids his anxiety. “Lead the way then.” He finally says, putting on an air of slight annoyance. As if he’s merely being put upon.

The young guards promptly fall into place beside him, and Harry walks down the small corridor that is lined with metal bars, thin walls made from freshly cut timber. They get to the end of the hall, and stop at the only occupied cell.

When he peers into the small chamber, he sees five men, boys, it’s hard to tell. But they are all huddled together in the corner, heads bowed into each other. Harry can feel a pang in his chest. This was the part that he knew was going to be his weak point. Inadvertently creating fear and despair around him. He knows that it’s just a formality. He wants to believe that it’s nothing personal, but that is just not the case. He is in charge of keeping these people from being free.

He lets the unease tumble around his head for another moment before he is jolted back into the real world by a laugh. A laugh? He whips his head towards the sound and sees the same small group. Still huddled together, but this time as Harry looks again he sees that they are not huddled in fear, but following every word of a man, whose face he didn’t see until this moment. His mouth and hands working equally as quickly, and a hint of mirth in his eyes that suggests that this attention is all the man needs in that tiny cell.

Just then, the man looks up, and catches Harry’s eye. Harry freezes, feeling as though he’s the one trapped. The man doesn’t smile, just watches Harry watch him, until finally he lifts his eyebrows in question, and Harry somehow manages to release himself from the spell that he feels he’s under.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155129156@N06/37848010702/in/dateposted-public/)

The occasional rumble of laughter drifts into Harry’s office throughout the evening. He tries to ignore it. He even attempts to be annoyed by it as he writes a letter to his sister. But he can do neither. The truth is that he has had to work just to keep himself from wandering out into the hallway and the prisoner's’ cell whenever their noise level raises. He personally saw to all of them getting a filling meal, and the option of clean faces and hands before they laid their heads down for the night. But that is the most that he could excuse himself. He has no reason to stand at their door and stare at the man with the blue eyes, and scruffy brown hair under his prisoner’s cap. He has no reason, but to just want it in a way that he has buried down deep in his gut, and has taught himself to ignore since his was a young boy sitting on his mother’s lap. He finds himself staring at the piece of paper with only a few lines on it asking of his sister’s health, and upcoming plans for marriage. He wants to mention this man. He can’t even think to talk about anything except laying eyes on him a few hours back.

“I’ve got to get a hold of myself.” He says to absolutely no one. He looks around the spacious, but dark office, and realises just how alone he is. Maybe he’ll get a cat. “Maybe I’ll just go and check on everything.” He says out loud. Trying to make it sound convincing to himself.

He takes a soft walk back out to the hallway. The guard is sitting at the other end, feet propped against the wall, eyes drifted closed. He should yell at him, at least make his presence known. But he doesn’t. He just peers into the now dark cell, and looks at all the sleeping faces. “Sleeping. Good.” He whispers into the room. “I know that you would rather be anywhere else, but you’ll be safe here.” He knows that none of them would believe him. Not with his red coat, and accent. They are on opposite sides. That is all they would see. But he says it out loud anyway, to make himself feel better. “I’ll keep you safe.” He says to the room, but looks at the relaxed face of the blue eyed one whose delicate features are accentuated in the moonlight shining in the barred up hole that passes for a window.

 

The days pass slowly with a building feeling of calm before the storm. All Harry can do is wait. He’s actually becoming thankful for the few men he has in his hold just to have a distraction. And distraction is the key word. He had tried valiantly to keep his fascination with the  blue eyed man to a minimum, but by third or fourth day, he had just all but given up. The amount of times he has walked slowly up and down the prison hall has earned him a few curious looks by more than one of his guards, but no one asks. Just like no one asks when he insists on serving them their meals personally.

It’s later in the day at the end of Harry’s first week that he receives another visit from his friend Niall. He walks into the building as though he’s taking a walk through a country garden, light, and carefree.

“How are we this fine evening?” Niall smiles at him, raising a hand to pat Harry’s back warmly.

“Can’t complain Niall. What brings you?” Harry replies, returning the embrace.

“I thought I would see you about town, seeing as the battle is still days away.” Niall looks at him with a look of wonder, and also a little bit of worry Harry can see.

“I’ve actually been busy.” Harry’s eyes involuntarily travel to the small cell, and Niall’s do as well.

“You still have prisoners?” He asks, walking toward the men in question.

“Still? You knew?” Harry asks, feeling guilty for some reason. Protective even.

“Of course. This is a small town Harry. People talk.” Niall watches the men watch him back. There is no fear in their eyes, but no curiosity either. Harry doesn’t like that Niall seems to be staring at them as though they were some sort of attraction, but he doesn’t feel that he dares say it out loud. Not without eliciting more unwanted questions that is. “So why are they still here?” Niall pushes.

“I can’t get a judge here until the one that is coming along with The General. I can’t exactly release them.” Harry frowns at the thought. He tries to ignore that the idea that they will soon be gone makes him sad.

“Surely with your position you could stand in.” Niall scoffs.

“I couldn’t possibly. I’m just a captain. If it were of a military nature, I would feel at least comfortable, but this…” He just raises his hand, trying to convey confusion. Niall stares at him a little harder than he would like, but doesn’t rebut him.

“Do they at least know why they are being detained for such a time?” Niall looks concerned again, but not for him. He remembers vividly that these detained men are Niall’s natural allies, not Harry.

He’s about to explain that he also cannot get a translator until the battle commences when he hears the foreign language in question. He whips his head at Niall who is speaking in fluent french to one of the men. The Man.

“I told them why it’s taking so long.” Niall says, switching back to English. “They are all quite amicable.” He turns towards the cell again, and sticks his hand out, he says a few words that Harry doesn’t recognise except Niall’s name when the blue eyed man stares between Niall and Harry before tentatively reaching through the bar, and replying in a soft, and gravelly voice. “Louis Tomlinson.” He says clearly, and plainly before he goes into a flood of french that loses Harry almost immediately. Niall follows along though, and replies smiling, just as Niall is always doing. “He needs me to take something.” Niall says, and Harry’s possessiveness takes over. This Louis Tomlinson his his prisoner. If he needed anything he should have come to Harry. Why Niall? It must be showing on his face, because Niall looks almost sympathetic.

“What kind of warden would I be if I let you take information out of here without my knowledge.” He tries to sound reasonable while he forces himself to refrain from grabbing a small scrap of paper out of Niall’s hand.

“I was thinking that maybe you would trust me as a friend, and honourable man.” Niall snaps a retort, effectively putting Harry in his place, but Louis interrupts. Niall looks at Harry with annoyance before he shoved the note into Harry’s hand. “He said let you see it.”

Harry takes, and carefully unfolds the scrap, seeing tiny, but fluid writing.

 

_L,_

_Everything is fine. Keep everyone healthy._

_L_

 

That is it. He has a dozen questions to ask, but he just silently passes the paper back. “Thank you.” He says to both Niall and Louis. Niall nods his head silently while Louis just returns to his small group, not giving Harry another glance.

 

It’s barely forty eight hours later that the battle for Louisbourgh begins. It amazes Harry how quickly they can be. When you are in the thick of it, it can feel like seconds, and weeks all at the same time, but in reality it’s a few short days. The British take the fort, and the french fall. Just like Harry had predicted. Soon his small prison with barely a soul inside the walls is a bustling hub of activity. Harry has many new guards come in to help with the crowd, not to mention a cook. Harry can no longer deliver personal meals to every prisoner. Not that he’s interested anyway. His biggest job for a few days is supervising the way his charges treat the prisoners. While he in no way believes in unnecessary violence, he knows that he is what could be considered a rare commodity.

He’s up to his elbows in paperwork when he gets word through courier from his superior that they are making deals for prisoner exchanges with a french officer. Liam Payne. He doesn’t sound french, but Harry tries not to presume.

Liam Payne shows up not a whole day later in civilian clothes, but it would take a blind man to not see his demeanor that screams military officer. He gives a brief nod to Harry before he launches into his speech that is in fact heavily french.

“We have agreed to exchange our few prisoners with our own men, on the condition that they be transported to their home lands of France.” Liam says, voice stilted, and stiff. As though he is expecting Harry to argue.

“That sounds fine. You will find that your men are well taken care of, and I hope to find mine in a similar fashion.” Harry replies, trying to speak slowly, and hoping that Liam takes the cue and does the same.

“They were treated as war prisoners, no worse, no better.” Liam replies, eyes serious.

“That’s fine, as long as they weren’t cruelly tortured.” Harry shouldn’t feel as though he’s asking for too much in that at least.

“Not under my supervision.” Liam replies, just as seriously as he was answering the last question.

 

They walk slowly through the cells that are on the brink of overflow. Liam tries his best to identify every last man. That is until he gets to the last cell.

“No need to worry about them. They aren’t battle prisoners. I am just waiting for a judge to come in.” Harry waves a hand, hopefully sufficiently dismissive of the man that he has become so fond of.

“Are they french?” Liam asks the one question that he would have to answer yes to. “Well, they are but…”

“If they are french, they are now a battle prisoner, no matter how they got here. They are my responsibility now Captain Styles.

Harry looks on helplessly as Liam explains quickly to his first prisoners the situation. He watches their faces for reactions and feels a sense of relief when they mostly seem opened to the idea of being shipped halfway across the world. And by mostly, Harry means all but one. Louis watches Liam bark out orders to the men around him with his jaw clenched, not to mention his fists.

In this moment Louis looks away from Liam’s sharp voice, and stares at Harry. He can see the pleading in his eyes, but Harry feels helpless. These orders came straight from the General. His hands are virtually tied. Louis must be able to gather Harry’s decision to stay out of it, and his look turns icy cold before he looks back to Liam for instructions. Seeming to comply with whatever is being told of him.

 

The entire operations take less than a few hours. The prisoners are all named, and accounted for, then piled on a few large wagons to be taken to Halifax. The small band of trespassers are the last to be loaded, and Harry can’t stop himself. He reaches out to the slender wrist as it passes him by. Louis jumps like he’s been burned, but stops anyway. Harry pauses, not really knowing what he hoped to gain from this. Louis’ deep stare burns into him and he licks his lips, trying to find something to give to Louis. “I’m sorry that this happened.” He finally says. Louis just stares, expression not changing before Harry finally gives up, and releases his arm to go with the others.

 

Harry feels both deflated that he couldn’t at least say something meaningful to Louis, and relieved that he did his duty, and his prison is once more quiet. It will be mostly used for rebels, and the inevitable small counter attacks that will happen. He begins to walk back, making a mental note of all of the work that will need to be done now that the cells are empty. Suddenly there is a shout just outside the door of the prison, and an uproar almost immediately afterwards. Raised voices in both french and English. He rushes back out to see a few men on foot running towards the thick rush behind the prison, and an agitated Liam Payne reaching for a sword that is no longer at his side, being stripped of his weapons after his defeat.

“What is the problem?” Harry asks, knowing damned well what had happened.

“A runner.” Liam practically spits, lip snarled. “One of your little pets.”

Harry doesn’t have time to be offended by the remark, his thoughts immediately runs. “Louis.”

“A deserter.” Liam adds.

“He wasn’t a soldier. I told you this.” Harry rounds on him. “He spent the battle in my charge, in my prison.” The depth of his voice booms over Liam’s cold expression, and causes him to step back a little.

“You’re an English officer, and he is a french fugitive. Either you find him, and send him back to prison, or we find him, and treat him like a deserter.” Liam replies, composure once again found. Harry doesn’t reply, just starts running in the direction of the forest.

 

He has no idea where he is going, or where to look. He is acutely aware that Louis has vastly more knowledge of these woods than Harry, but he will not under any circumstances allow the french officers to find him. Not if he can help it. He’s beginning to lose his wind when he decides to stop, and try to be smart about this. Where would Louis hide? Why did he run? What would be the motive? He remembers back to the note. He has people close to here. Niall knows where they are. He wishes he had Niall here with him. He looks in all directions hoping for a clue, for something that could tell him which direction to take. The leaves are quickly falling from the trees this time of year, and the floor of the forest is just a blanket of colour. The trees are mostly bare, and the rest looks like a brown mass. Nothing looks touched. No one has been here. He takes a quick look at the sun, and decides to head south, knowing that there is a small settlement south of the prison. At least it’s a start.

 

It’s well past dark before Harry sees the dim lights of the local inn, but judging from the noise there is no one settling down for the even anytime soon. He looks around for the familiar red of a british uniform, but doesn’t see anything moving aside from a horse or two shuffling on their feet. He takes a breath, squares his shoulders, and walks through the door. He’s sure that every eye is on him when his frame fills the narrow entryway, and instantly regrets not at least having a plan of action, or maybe more importantly, a plan of escape.

He does a quick sweep of the room and quickly decides to go for the man behind the small slab that seems to be functioning as a crude bar. He is not looking at him with blatant disdain at the very least.

“Do you speak English sir?” He tries to command respect, like a captain should. The man just stares at him, not acknowledging whether he understood Harry’s words or not. “I’m looking for a man. It’s important that I find him.” Harry continues. Still no response. Still no acknowledgement. He sighs heavily. “Louis Tomlinson?” He tries, and this time there is a flicker. The man’s eyes shift ever so slightly to the door. Harry will take it. He leans closely across the bar to speak clearly to the man. “Listen sir. I don’t know if you can understand what I am saying, but there is a french soldier on his way to this village with the full intent to hang Louis for desertion. If I take him in, at least he will have the chance to survive. If you can just help me. Help him.” He pleads.

The man shifts his eyes again, this time to a young lady near the back, Harry suddenly notices that she is stock still, eyes bored into Harry’s back. She looks utterly terrified, and frozen in her place. The man across the bar just nods at her once, and she rushes out of the room without another word. He looks at Harry again. “He’s in the stable. The french officer was already here, but he will be back. Just get him out of here.” Harry nods.

“Thank you.” He says, and turns smartly on his heel to make his way to the outbuilding that he had passed on the way in.

 

He walks into the blackened room. There is a few small openings that pass for windows, but the stable is empty save for a small mare in an end stable who is paying him no mind at all. He takes another step in, and then suddenly hears the telltale click of a rifle being cocked. He stops all movement, and waits. “Make no movements.” A feminine, heavily accent voice commands. He does as she asks, and stays in his place. “State your name.” She demands.

“Captain Harry Styles.” Harry whispers, throat feeling more dry than he would like to admit.

“And you are here for Louis.” She replies. He can hear the venom in her words.

“Just to protect him.” Harry insists.

“To put him back in jail for doing nothing.”

“To keep him safe. To keep him here. They tried to send him to France. He wouldn’t go. Now he’s a wanted man.” Harry pleads to this faceless voice.

“Why do you want to help him? What is in it for you?” He can hear her moving closer. He stays exactly where he is at.

“A clear conscious?” Harry tries. It’s a lie, but what else can he say? He’s been slowly falling in love with the man over the last two weeks? That he has been on the verge of panic at the thought of a hair being misplaced from his lovely head? “I just want to do the right thing. I can keep him from execution. What other options does he have?”

“Lottie, put the gun down.” Harry hears the voice that has ingrained itself into Harry’s mind. He can hear the hammer of the rifle shifting. “Leave us please.” Louis says again.

“Lou-”

“It’s fine mon petit chou. He is the one I was telling you about.” Louis says, sounding reassuring. “Find Oli, and tell him to get you a loaf of bread, maybe a block of cheese if he has it.”

“Lou.” She says again, but this time it sounds less scared, and more sad. They are both close enough now for Harry to see them. Louis embraces her tightly, and strokes her hair for a second before he pushes her out the door.

“Kiss the little ones. Tell them I will see them soon.” He sounds like he’s smiling.

“Will you?” She asks him.

“Tell them. Go.” He says with finality, and she finally follows his orders, and slips out of the door into the night.

He then turns his attention to Harry who hasn’t moved yet, and settles a hard glare at him. Harry’s body can’t tell whether he is happy for the attention, or frightened by it. When Louis doesn’t speak, Harry feels compelled to move the situation along. “So you speak English.” He tries to sound stern, but the fear in his voice betrays him.

“I do.” Louis replies, face not changing at all.

“So all of the things that I have said to you, about you, in front of you. You heard them all.” Harry says, heart sinking into his stomach.

“I did.” Louis says again in short, clipped tones. It’s all of a sudden a bit too much for Harry as he takes a step back, and runs a hand through his hair.

“My intention was not…” He begins, but he doesn’t know what his intentions were to be honest. Surely he would never have said any of those things had he known that Louis could understand him, but at the same time, he’s here, he traveled for miles on foot because the idea of the man standing in front of him being in danger actually terrified him. So what has he said with his words that he has not also shown with his actions?

Suddenly Louis is in front of him again, taking a step forward just as Harry had taken a step back. “You’re intentions were honest and pure. I put myself, and you in danger when I ran away, and I apologise for that. You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“You are considered a deserter. They want to have you hanged. I couldn’t….” Harry breaks off, the idea leaving a hard lump in the back of his throat.

“I can’t go back to France. For many reasons, but most importantly is that I have family here, people who rely on me to feed them, care for them. If I was shipped off today, Providence knows what would happen to them.” Louis’ voice is fierce, and commanding, the love for his family evident.

“She’s quite something.” Harry concedes, eyes not quite able to meet Louis’.

“Lottie? Yes, she’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days. Louis’ lip turns up in a smile as though he is remembering a fond moment. Affection washes over his face, it makes Harry’s heart twist.

“And...little ones?” Harry practically chokes out the words. Children, something Harry couldn’t even imagine being able to hope for.

“Yes, there are three more of them back home. Not so little anymore sadly. They eat more than the pig, and her piglets. Grow faster too I’m sure.” Louis chuckles as though they are conversing over afternoon tea, but Harry nearly chokes.

“You have three children?” It’s still a whisper, but hoarse, and louder than they have been speaking. Louis startles, and places a firm hand on Harry’s mouth to shush him.

“What?” He practically breaths, as to not draw any attention to them. “No, I have no children. Sisters. Four sisters. I am their only care giver. Their mother…” Louis pauses, taking his hand from Harry’s mouth. “Our mother didn’t survive the passage from France. And when we left, things...weren’t good with our family. So we stayed, got a small parcel of land, and we farm it enough to provide for us, and sell enough to buy what we need. I have a network of people here now that I can rely on. I can’t leave here. These are the only family I have. I am the only hope that my girls have.”

“Sisters.” Harry repeats. “That was your…”

“Yes, sister. Lottie. She’s the oldest, soon to be married if she doesn’t get herself killed first. One out of the house.” He almost looks sad at the idea, instead of relief that she wouldn’t be his responsibility anymore. “So if you intend to take me back to get me on a boat, I am sorry, but I will just have to stop you.”

“I…” Harry begins, not really knowing how to convey what he wants with Louis, trying really hard not to give away absolutely everything he wants anyway. “Don’t want you to go either.” He decides on finally, stealing a glance at Louis to gauge his reaction. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees his face soften, just in the slightest. “But what about Payne? If I just let you go, he will find you for sure. I can’t...I can’t let that happen either.”

“Why is my well being so important to you Harry Styles?” Louis asks. Harry does look at him this time, fully, and honestly.

“If you have truly heard everything I have said to you over that last two weeks, I think you know the answer to that already.” He says. His hands are shaking, and he has to square his jaw to keep it from trembling as well. He doesn’t anticipate what happens next though, and it almost drops him to his knees.

“I think I do.” Louis says softly, and reaches a hand up to touch Harry’s jaw, and caress his cheek. It sucks all of the air from Harry’s lungs, causing him to gasp loudly. “Do I have to keep you quiet again?” Louis asks, and it almost sounds cheeky. Harry just shakes his head. “Can you come closer to me?” Louis asks, and Harry takes a shaky step forward. He isn’t sure if his legs will hold him much longer. “You were very bold saying all of those things to me in the prison. Some would say stupid.” Louis scolds. “I would say brave.”

“Not brave.” Harry replies, and they are now close enough that his breath is moving the small hairs on the sides of Louis’ temples. He wants to stroke them, runs his fingers through them, but he doesn’t. Just concentrates on Louis’ hand on his cheek. “Just when I look at you, sometimes all of my sensibilities fly right out of my head.”

A soft rumble erupts from Louis chest. “So what now?”

“I can’t let you go.” Harry says, and Louis looks disappointed again. “But if you are under my charge, no one else can prosecute you. So it’s back to the prison with me, or on the run from him.”

“If those are my choices I guess we will have to go, won’t we?” Louis steps back again, and waits for Harry to lead the way, but Harry doesn’t move. Every nerve in his body is telling him not to do it, but his heart tells him to run full steam. He settles for a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“We will work something out. For all of you. I don’t know what that will be yet, but I promise that it will be ok.” Louis nods, and they walk out of the stable together, and back into the night.  

 

While the offer to stay at the inn for the night is tempting, Harry would really rather not stick around in a place where he doesn’t have to authority to keep Louis, so they move on foot the way they had both come. Through the anonymity of the dense forest. It’s well past midnight before they make it back to the prison, and Harry breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the high walls. Louis, on the other hand looks sad, and tired. It disheartens Harry knowing that his joy at keeping Louis close to him is the very thing that is causing Louis distress. He leads Louis into the dark hallway, and watches Louis walk sullenly to his old cell without another word.

“You don’t…” Harry hesitates, not really knowing how to approach Louis now that they are back to this dynamic. Yes, Louis was his prisoner, but surely Louis knows that it’s just for show. Harry doesn’t want to actually incarcerate him. “If you like, I have stew waiting in my office. It’s a little more cozy in there.” He immediately regrets the words he uses. “That is, if you want. If not I can send some to your...room.”

“That sounds fine Harry. Lead the way.” Louis replies, maybe amused, but he looks more tired than anything.

Harry leads him into the room that is also dark, the fire in the hearth has long since gone cold, and he immediately moves to restart it while Louis lights the few lanterns near the desk, and on the windowsill. They are once again bathed in light, and Harry can’t help but steal a glance at Louis. He absolutely glows in the dim light. The dark shadows cause the angles of his cheekbones look even sharper, and his tired eyes look even softer. Louis looks back towards him causing him to jump a little, and turn back to his task. He can hear Louis chuckle slightly behind him. He puts the pot of stew over the fire, and then is faced with nothing to do except face the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to sit?” He offers Louis a chair. He feels so horribly out of his element that every word that comes out of his mouth feels awkward, and wrong.

“Make yourself comfortable Harry.” Louis says, sitting in the chair closest to him, leaving Harry to perch on the cot near the fire. “So what is the plan here? What are we doing?”

Harry thinks that these are two very different questions, but he tries to be as truthful as possible. “Honestly, I have no idea what I am doing. All I could focus on was making sure you were safe. And now that I know that you are, I am a bit overwhelmed.”

“I can tell, and I’m sorry, but this is my life. I need to know that you aren’t going to keep me hid away in this building my whole life. I need to know what you intend to do with me Harry.” Louis pleads.

“No! Of course! I would never do that. Please know that this isn’t what I want for you. I want you to be free. I was just trying...I just want…” Harry deflates, and put his head in his hands. The fatigue of the day washes over him.

“What do you want? What do you want from me Harry? Please just say it.” Harry shakes his head. He can’t. He couldn’t possibly. “Please. I have been waiting for you to say it.”

“I have feelings.” Harry begins, still talking through his hands. “Affections. I would never force anything on you Louis. I hope you realise that. But I care about you. I want the best for you.”

“What are the feelings?” Louis urges. Harry sighs, resigned to have this conversation, wherever it ends up, Louis has the right to know.

“You are very beautiful, and kind, and from what I have seen, loving. I want to be with you, I want to love you.” Harry swallows hard, not quite believing the words that are coming from his mouth. “I want to make love to you.” He doesn’t know much right now, but he definitely hears the hitch in Louis’ breath across the room.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Louis replies, voice low.

“My plan was to do nothing, and admire you from afar.” They are apparently laying their cards on the table, so might as well be truthful.

“Well, I am not afar. I am right here.” Louis states.

“And you would rather be anywhere else.” Harry throws himself back, probably a little too dramatically, but the soft blankets feel good on his weary back.

“Harry.” Louis says, and it’s only when he feels the weight of Louis on his thighs that he realises that he had crossed the room. He is now straddling him, and gently pulling his hands, and arms away from his flushed face. “I don’t want to be in prison. I didn’t say that I do not want to be here with you.” Harry finally opens his eyes to see Louis curled over him, smiling slightly. Only the dark circles under his eyes give away the kind of day he had. Harry reaches up to touch his side, and he can feel the electric shock that goes through his entire body at finally being able to touch him, feel him. It must encourage Louis as well because he is leaning down, and their lips are touching ever so slightly, then more, deeper. So much that Harry feels like he can breath Louis into him, that he never wants to live a world where Louis’ lips aren’t on his. The only words running through his head are _more more more._ Then suddenly Louis shifts, and presses a thigh into Harry’s groin, and a deep groan rumbles from his lips so unwillingly that Harry feels the need to apologise.

“I didn’t mean…” He tries.

“I did.” Louis replies, and captures Harry in a kiss once again.

 

“Why did you leave France?” Harry asks into the darkness. The fire has died down, and they have pulled all of the Harry’s blankets off the cot to make something big enough for them both to lie down.

He can feel Louis shift slightly beside him. “We were part of an influential family. Never wanted for anything. Except I wanted for something that I should never have dared to have. His name was Luc. One of my grandmother’s maids caught us kissing in the back garden one night. She ordered my mother to send me away, and she decided that she would rather be with me than her mother in law, no matter how poor we may be.”

“And your father?” Harry asks, feeling bold in the afterglow of experiencing Louis’ love first hand.

“Dead years ago. He was older when I was born. By the time my youngest sisters were born, he could have passed for their grandfather. My grandmother was absolutely ancient.” Louis giggles, but without much actual humour in it.

“Is she still living?”

“Last I heard. Honestly I don’t care. I tried to contact her when mother passed. She never replied to any of my letters. We have officially cut ties.” Louis rolls over, and wraps his bare arm around Harry’s waist. “Why do you care about all of this anyway?”

“I care about everything in your life. I want to know.” Harry replies defensively.

“It’s just me and the girls now. That is my family. That is the most important. And I need to know that they will be safe. I need to be the one to keep them safe.” Harry can hear the panic starting to rise in Louis’ voice.

“You will.” Harry replies, sounding more sure than he feels.

“You can promise me that?” Louis replies quickly.

“I can promise that I will do everything in my power to get you out of here.” Harry feels the weight of Louis’ head rest on his shoulder, and he closes his eyes, letting sleep finally overcome him.

 

He’s jolted from sleep by a booming voice echoing through the hall outside his office door. Not to mention Louis jumping a good three feet beside him. His first instinct is to just roll over and grumble about it just being Niall, but then he remember the night before and what it would look like if Niall just walked through his unlocked door. Which is exactly what he does.

“Vous ne frappez pas?” Louis yells in Niall’s direction, who is frozen at the door, eyes darting from Harry to Louis and back again.

“Pardon!” Niall finally yells. “I had no idea!”

“Niall….” Harry offers, feeling the panic rise in his throat, but Niall isn’t looking at him. Him and Louis are mumbling in low tones. Niall looks upset, but Louis looks as though he’s trying to comfort him.

“I’m fine M. Horan. I promise you.” Louis claps Niall’s back cordially, and the realisation hits Harry.

“I did not take advantage of him Niall!” Harry yells frantically, honestly this entire situation is causing a feeling of panic all over his body. But Niall is his friend, surely he wouldn’t think…

“What do you expect me to think walking into this situation. You are in a position of power Harry, he is your prisoner. This is very unprofessional.” Niall squares him a look that makes him squirm even more before Louis physically steps between them.

“I am not a prisoner here. At least not unwillingly.” Louis says, and his voice sounds more calm than Harry could even pretend to muster.

“I’m sorry M. Tomlinson, you are going to have to elaborate.” Niall sits, and makes himself comfortable as though he isn’t in the office of another man who he just walked in on being naked with another man. Typical Niall.

“Please, it’s Louis.” Louis shuffles into his trousers as discreetly as he can while Harry is still standing mostly in shock. “My freedom, or lack thereof had been transferred yesterday to a man who was assigned to accompany me back to France. A place that I am desperate to not go. I escaped his custody, and the only thing keeping me from a noose is Harry.”

“And what authority does Harry have to keep you?” Niall asks, attention turning once again to the man in question.

“I don’t.” Harry deflates a little, sitting in the only other chair in the room. “Not really. And that is only half the problem. Louis can’t stay here indefinitely. He needs to get back to his family, but as long as he isn’t in my custody he is considered a french deserter, and as long as he’s in my custody he is here in this prison.

Niall watches them both carefully. “So you are harbouring a fugitive.” Niall accuses. Harry throws his hands in the air in frustration.

“Who’s side are you on here?” He asks.

“I’m just trying to get the facts.” Niall replies, nose in the air. “But if you are trying to protect Louis, why don’t you just take him to your estate?”

“My estate? How will that help at all? He will still be a wanted man. I have no authority to hold him there.” Harry sounds incredulous on the outside, but on the inside his heart is leaping at the idea of taking Louis home, seeing him resting on the wide porch that overlooks the river, or wandering through the heavy pines the line the property.

“Harry, I am sorry to tell you, but you are already breaking a few rules here.” Niall motions between him and Louis, and the implications of his words aren’t lost on Harry. “You may need to cheat the system a bit.”

“And by a bit, what do you mean exactly?” Louis inquires as though Niall is full of good ideas, and just no. That isn’t how it is supposed to go.

Niall sighs dramatically as though he is very much put upon for even being there. Harry is going to have to remember to ask why exactly Niall is here to begin with. “Harry has an estate an estate not even a day’s ride from here. It is lovely farm land that employs a small amount of people. All Harry has to do is arrest you for something considerably less damning than desertion, make a deal with the judge who is a close friend of his father’s by the way, and tell him that he will be gracious enough to indenture Louis on his estate, and because he is such a good man, hire on your sisters as well. Niall sits back with a smile of a cat catching a canary. Louis stares at Harry curiously.

“I can’t have Louis come to my home as a servant.” Harry says, staring back at Louis. Louis smiles at him with his eyes, but it does nothing to relieve the knot in his stomach.

“Harry.” Niall says softly, breaking the spell for a moment. Harry looks at Niall to see a soft smile on his lips. “It not real. It’s just what you write on the paper to keep Louis away from a much worse fate. For all anyone will care once the papers are signed, Louis could spend his days fishing on the banks while Sarah brings him gingerbread and milk.”

“Sarah?” Louis finally pipes up, and of course that is the question he asks.

“The housekeeper. Lovely lady, makes beautiful pastries.” Niall sighs dreamily. Harry sighs too, but it’s in exhaustion.

“This all sounds too much.” He shakes his head.

“This is two letters, and a week of waiting... at most.” Niall snaps his fingers. “Leave it to me. I have had a slow week.” Niall suddenly jumps up enthusiastically. “I needed a project. Harry, Louis. Good day.” And he’s gone. Leaving Harry with a bit of a headache, and Louis laughing bountifully.

 

Suddenly they are alone again, and the silence between them feels suffocating. Harry slowly dresses while Louis watches him.

“I can’t believe Niall.” He finally says for lack of anything better. “

“You can’t believe how good of a friend you have in him, you mean.” Louis replies, and it sounds quite like a scolding.

“This is never going to work.” Harry shakes his head. “I can't ask you to just...transplant your life…” He sits back down, panic rising once again. Louis stands, and comes to him, placing a hand gently on his bowed head. Harry leans into it almost on instinct.

“Harry, love.” Louis replies softly. “I don’t think you fully understand what position I am in here.” Harry looks up at him, and he is smiling, but his face is kind of sad. “I made a choice that put me in a bad way. You, and your friend are keeping me safe. Keeping me alive. For that, I will forever be grateful.”

“I just feel like I am stealing you away from your life, your people. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a say.” Harry relents. He doesn’t want Louis to be in his life because he doesn’t have a choice. This is what feels so wrong about it all. “When the resistance dies down, and the french army are out of the area for good, you will be free to do whatever you want again.”

“Exactly, this is just temporary.” Louis concedes. “Then we can decide what to do from there.”

“We?” Harry breathes, almost as though the word itself will break, and crumble in front of him.

“Being free to do what I want will not necessarily mean leaving you Harry.” Louis kneels down to be face to face with him. “Do you want to be free of me?” The question is in earnest, and a serious one. One of the rare times that Louis doesn’t have humour dancing in his eyes.

“No, I don’t.” Harry says, equally as serious. Something he is far more accustomed to be being. It causes Louis to smile, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

 

As promised, no less than a week later, Niall is back with two letters. One for Harry, one for Louis. Niall had apparently made up some story about Louis assaulting an officer, which would be enough to keep him detained under British authority, but not be enough to cause for any more scrutiny than Niall’s word. Louis is given orders to be transported to Harry’s estate, and serve a two year sentence of labour for him. Something that Harry, or course could shorten if he feels necessary.

“So what officer did Louis assault exactly?” Harry asks over the short message addressed to him.

“Well you looked a little worse for wear the last time I saw you…” Niall smirks at him.

“You told him that I got beaten by a-?”

“Watch it.” Louis warns as Harry gapes at him.

“He assumed that is why you were taking the matter so...personally.”Niall chuckles as Harry flushes deep into his neck.

“Niall, what you saw….” Harry tries to explain, not really knowing what to say to explain himself.

“I know what I saw.” Niall interrupts him. “And it’s important that not many people besides myself do know, but I have seen...relationships that are far more accepted by the world we live in that are damaging, and hurtful.” Niall frowns. “This isn’t any of those things. I want you to be happy.”

“Ok.” Harry says because he doesn’t trust himself to say anymore. Niall smiles at him reassuringly before motioning to the door.

“Lets go. I know of a few young ladies who are anxious to get settled into their new home.”

“You’ve seen the girls?” Louis perks up, following Niall towards the carriage.

“I’ve been checking on them, making sure they have what they need. They are packing up their essentials as we speak.” Niall shrugs as though this isn’t the most vital information Louis has got all day. Louis smiles so bright that Harry can feel it in his toes.

“Let’s go home.” He says to Harry quietly. Harry just nods, ignoring the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

 

The sun is just beginning to set as Niall slows the horses down to a stop in front of his home. He glances over to the girls first who are peering around, eyes wide at the many buildings, and clear grassed area to the river.

“You will be able to skate on that in a few months.” Harry smiles tentatively. They haven’t said a whole lot to him when he picked them up from their humble two room cabin, mostly just murmuring to them in the language that he does not speak. Louis assured him that they did speak English though, so he has tried to make small talk as much as he can.

He then turns to Louis, who he is surprised to see is staring right back at him. Louis smiles when their eyes meet, and Harry almost can’t keep from ducking his head, nerves suddenly overcoming him.

“Girls!” Niall suddenly booms out, jumping from the carriage in one fluid movement. “Let’s go find Sarah, she’s expecting us, and she has food!” He says like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. But the girls flock behind him dutifully, tittering behind gloved hands as he personally helps them down one by one. He then gives a brief glance back as they all bustle into the house, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, gives a wink while he’s at it.

“I suppose I best get to work.” Louis looks at Harry solemnly. Harry’s stomach drops for a moment, thinking that this is the life that Louis feels that he is going to have. Servitude towards Harry, but Louis’ face just spreads wide into a grin. “The girls must believe they are living in the lap of luxury now, didn’t take even a hand bag in the house with them.” His eyes sparkle as he looks back to where his sisters fluttered off.

Harry can’t help it. He doesn’t know if he has ever felt as much affection for anyone in his life. He takes Louis’ face in his hands, and kisses him deep. Louis instantly leans into it, bringing his hands up to grasp the lapel of Harry’s coat. When he pulls away there is a look of shock on Louis’ face. “If someone sees…”

“If someone can’t see me falling in love with you Louis Tomlinson, they have no business being here. We are free here, free to love each other, and I want to be able to kiss you wherever I want.” Harry says, realising only in that moment that he truly means it. This is his chance at happiness, this is his chance at being a family.

“I will be happy to be kissed wherever you want Harry Styles.” Louis replies, eyes softer than Harry had ever seen them. They lean in together this time, sealing their love with a kiss.


End file.
